Merry Christmas
I wrote this a long time agod, a long time ago … … Once upon a keyboard, a long time ago …. Heh heh
With MSN deciding to close down their groups, and with all of my stories being posted pretty much only at the Clubhouse, I figured I should start posting anything worthy to . Hell, I'll lose them otherwise.
Disclaimer: Birds aren't mine, although I do seem to play with them a lot.
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Christmas.
More than just a time for gift giving, eating, and drinking lots of substances both alcoholic and not, Christmas was about love, togetherness, and peace on Earth.
It was a time of joy and good will; a season of red noses, flushed cheeks and kisses under the mistletoe with that one special person.
It was the time of year the entire world stopped their ceaseless wars and aggression, just to stop and share a day that was more filled with love and honour than any Valentine's Day. The one day where everyone enjoyed their own gifts.
Peace.
Love.
Happiness.
At least that's what Princess thought as she gazed out of the porthole of the Phoenix's Weapons bay at the small half-orb that was her view of Planet Earth.
Two thirds of the way through North America's Christmas day, and she was on board the Phoenix taking inventory on the Bird Missiles, on the way home after a week-long battle on Riga. She was exhausted, bruised and miserable.
At midnight on what was to have been her 19th Christmas, she was knee-deep in sewerage underneath a Spectran base alongside Mark trying to find a safe way in to blow the place up.
At the time she should have been sitting beside the Christmas tree giggling over the typically male gifts her team mates had gathered for her; she was atop Mark's shoulders in a spin that was to prevent them being hit by flying debris as the console she'd set with charges exploded.
At the time she should have been sitting in front of the fireplace, under the mistletoe, desperately hoping that anyone beside Tiny would notice – Mark especially – and give her a Christmas kiss; she was dodging a bullet and being thrown into the wall by an over enthusiastic, and now dead, Spectran goon.
At the moment she was to be sitting at the table, laughing with the guys and sharing a sumptuous meal of turkey and stuffing; she was gripping hard on the console of her station as the warship burned in fire-mode on escape from the mecha-of-the-week.
And at this moment, where she should have been curled up in front of the fire contemplating the day and the year gone, and wondering why Mark didn't notice the mistletoe above her head all day; she was in the weapons bay of the Phoenix making sure that they had sufficient ammunition should they encounter something unfriendly between Riga and Earth.
This was the worst Christmas ever.
She inhaled a shaky breath and wiped at a small tear that had spilled over the rim of her eye as she blinked. It wasn't fair. She spent all of her young life trying to make the world as safe and peaceful as possible so that everyone could live a normal life and celebrate all things being human – but she could never experience the same.
She would never have a normal life; a normal boyfriend; a normal little home with children and a picket fence; a mortgage and birthday parties….and….
"Is everything okay, Princess?"
Her eyes widened at the sound of her commander's voice from the doorway. She quickly sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the tips of her fingers.
"Yes, Commander. Everything's okay. We have more than enough bird missiles on board … Jason went easy on…"
"I mean you," he interrupted gently as he pulled himself from his shoulder-lean against the doorframe and slowly approached. "Are you okay?"
She quickly nodded, taking care to make sure she wasn't looking at him. "Yeah. Uh. I'm just tired."
He shook his head and cupped her chin with his hand to gently coax her in to looking at him. "I know you better than that. Something's wrong."
She hiccupped in an ironic kind of laugh. "I think the problem's obvious, don't you?"
He sighed hard and nodded. "You're having an 'I hate being the Swan' day."
"Just once," she agreed as she finally let her tears fall from her eyes. "Just once I want to experience being a normal girl, experiencing normal things."
She watched him inhale in preparation of offering her a supportive word, yet continued with her upset rant that became more frustrated as it went on.
"Just once I want to be able to dress up in something pretty … sexy … and spend a night on the town with friends. I want to be able to flirt with the guys, and have one use a corny pick-up line on me. I want to be able to make plans with someone, or to do something, and know that I will be able to keep them."
She took a step back from him as he tilted his head at her in a typically Mark sympathetic gesture.
"I want to go to the mall and buy outfits and make-up. I want to wear perfume and have my hair styled while I get a pedicure and manicure."
She watched as he removed his helmet and shook out his flattened hair with his fingers.
He was listening; she could read it in his eyes; so she continued.
"I want Christmas to be Christmas. I want to have a birthday where I can go out and enjoy being me. I want to meet new people and not have to constantly be on the lookout for a Spectran in disguise."
She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and removed her helmet. She hugged it tight against her chest and lowered her head. Her voice softened as she continued.
"I want to know what it's like to be pulled into a man's arms and held on to. I want to know what it feels like to kiss … to be kissed. I want to be able to throw caution to the wind and make a move on a guy I am interested in and not have to worry about what would happen if he said no."
He finally spoke. It was on a whisper and full of empathy. "Oh, Princess."
Her shoulders shuddered as she curled herself around her helmet. "I want to be loved, Mark." She sniffed. "But I'm never going to get the chance."
"You're more loved than you'll ever know, Princess," he offered softly. "We all love you … and the whole world-"
Her head snapped up so that she could glare at him and cut his words mid-sentence.
"I don't care about the whole world, Mark." She let the helmet drop from her chest and took a step backward. "I don't want artificial love. I don't mean the love of a family. I know I have that. I want to have someone love me." Her body stiffened as her eyes flared in frustration. "I want to have someone fall desperately in love with me – Princess – not the Swan, not as their sister, not as their mother figure, or daughter, but for me."
His body stiffened away from her in shock at her reaction. "Princess…"
"Don't "Princess" me, Mark. I don't need you, or anyone, blowing smoke up my ass and just telling me what I want to hear. Yeah, I'm pretty, I'm adorable, I'm cute, I get it. Everyone is in love with me because I am such an adorable and loveable little girl." She stepped backward again and stumbled slightly as the backs of her thighs met with the edge of a crate of ammunition. She let her body relax against it and slumped in a semi-seated position. "But none of those people would look at me twice and have the same feeling for me if I wasn't who I was. They wouldn't send me flowers and teddy-bears if I was just plain old Princess Anderson."
"That's not true," he offered in an almost pleading manner.
She didn't look up at him. She let her head stay low and loosened the tension of the cross of her arms against her breast. "Yes, it is. I'm defined by this pink skirt and come-screw me boots. I have my home and my bike, my brothers and my father only because of who I am." She inhaled a long breath and closed her eyes. "And I have my loneliness and misery for the same reason. I'll never have what I truly want. Whether or not I am the Swan I'll never have what … Who … I really, truly need."
He chewed on his lip and fought against his own tears as he let her words swirl inside his head.
She was right. They were all trapped inside the birdstyle in one way or another. They had everything they wanted, but nothing they needed.
He finally raised his eyes to her and watched as she gently wept less than ten feet away from her.
It was only right that she would be the one to finally voice the concern that affected them all so heavily. She was such a desperately sensitive person that continually losing the special times she could ensure they'd all share time together would eventually break her.
Hell, he'd done the same about as often as he knew she had.
Only he always did it within his own solitude; at the shack; where he knew noone could hear him.
He finally took a breath and was less than a foot away from her before he'd finished his exhale. He opened his mouth to offer her a canned response about how she was the most important woman in the world to all of them and how it had nothing to do with being the swan and everything to do with how incredible she was as a person - blah blah – and was surprised when his hands defied his mind by reaching out to touch her shoulders.
He blinked slowly and exhaled a shaking, unsure breath as they softly moved up along her neck and into her hair.
She seemed as surprised as he as her name stammered from his throat and his thumbs met with her lips.
Her eyed widened and locked on his face. "Mark?"
His eyes were as wide as hers as he watched the movement of his thumbs making a single downward stroke over her lips. He was venturing into ground as yet unventured, with no mission plan, and no intel, with no team mates to back him up or protect him.
He was terrified.
"Princess …" he managed after a long 30 seconds. "I wish I knew how to make it all right; how to give you everything you need and make you feel like you need to…"
"Kiss me," she said firmly, but quietly, in interruption.
His inhale asked the question his voice refused to.
"If you want to make me feel like I need to," she said with a confidence that was simply not hers, "then kiss me."
His lips quivered in indecision. They hovered dangerously close to hers, but didn't close the gap.
"Please, Mark. Just do it. To Hell with anything else. If you think I'm all woman, that I am desirable and worth the risk, then just do it."
Still he hovered.
Princess huffed at his unwillingness to move the half-inch required to shatter the boundary of Commander and subordinate and finally pressed both hands into his chest and shoved him away from her.
"Don't worry about it."
He stumbled and all but fell to the floor in shock and embarrassment. "Princess, please … I just…"
She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't say it, Mark. I understand, okay?" Her voice was pained, but not angry or frustrated. "I'm just not … I don't know … worthy? Your type?"
He shook his head. "No, Princess. It's not that … it's just…"
She turned and set her hand on her hip and regarded him with frustration. "I'm not worth the risk? You don't care? What, Mark. What?"
"You don't understand what …"
Her hand shot quickly into a harsh "stop" position in front of her. "Don't give me that "it's not you it's me" speech, Mark. I get it, okay? You just don't feel that way about me. That's okay. You don't love me, I appreciate that. Just because I say it about you doesn't mean you have to respond in kind."
The Commander in Mark suddenly found its way into his posture. His body straightened and his head rose regally. "Never, ever, tell me how I feel or don't feel about you, Princess."
Her brow rose defensively, but she didn't speak – she did not want to take on the Eagle right now.
He slowly stepped toward her. "I would die for you. I would sacrifice my own soul to make sure you were safe."
"Of course, you're my Commander."
The delivery of her statement was such that it spurned him to approach her quickly. "It has nothing to do with my rank."
She wanted to step away, but curiosity made her stay put. "Then ….?"
One arm circled her waist, the other threaded fingers in to her hair. "I love you. Of course I do. Not as a sister, or as a team mate, as the swan, or any of the bullshit you have running through your mind right now." His words were more aggressive than his tone of voice. His hold, however …
"It is the woman I want. I don't care about a little skirt and a pair of white panties."
"But?"
He finally closed the distance between them and claimed her mouth hard. Fear, lust, panic, desperation and need fuelled the exchange between them. She tried to pull away; he drew her closer, snarling in an alpha-male manner, telling her she wasn't going anywhere.
It lasted a minute.
It felt like an hour.
When it was over, and he released her, they remained in an uncomfortable silence for a long while.
It was she who finally fractured the silence by playfully, and uncomfortably, raising her head to the ceiling in search of something.
He tilted his head at her and frowned in confusion.
"What's wrong? You … uh … that wasn't what you …"
She shyly tilted her head to one side and shook her head with a smile. "Mistletoe."
"Excuse me?"
"I was looking for the mistletoe."
He pursed his lips in total confusion. "I don't get it."
"I … I just want to make sure that wasn't only because I'd just walked under the mistletoe."
He let out a relieved breath and smiled in his trademark coy manner. "No," he said jokingly as his arm threaded across her shoulder and he pulled her close. "It wasn't even a present from Santa for you being a good girl all year."
She leaned against his and chuckled. "Damn, and he was going to get cognac this year as thanks."
He nodded, "you and I can share it instead. We'll throw away the communicators for the evening and get cozy in front of the fire. Just you and me."
A smile spread across her lips. "So this means we … uh you and me … we're…?"
He nodded. "We both need and want to the same thing. You're right, we deserve it."
She sighed whistfully in contentment.
"This is the greatest Christmas ever …"
He chuckled. "Merry Christmas, Princess."